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Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 24, 1881, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. J Jnkptnbtnt Jamiln Itttospptr: Jor 1 \t |)roinotion of \\t political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|e J5ont|. TERMS--$2.50 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE.
VOL. 27. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1881. NO. 8.
Selected fodrjj.
PEtitilNU AWAY.
There was an old shoemaker, sturdy as steel,
Of great wealth and repute in his day.
Who. if questioned his secret of luck to reveal,
Would chirp like a bird on a spray?
"It isn't so much the vocation you're in,
Or your liking for it," he would say,
"As it is that forever, through thick and through
thin.
You should keep up a-pegging away."
I have found it a maxim of value, whose truth
Observation has proved in the main ;
And which well might be vaunted a watchword
by youth
In the labor of hand and brain ;
For even if genius and talent are cast
Into work with the strongest display,
You can never be sure of achievement at last
Unless you keep pegging away.
There are showmen who might into statesmen
have grown.
Politicians for handiwork made.
Some poets who better in shops had shone,
And mechanics best suited for trade;
~ ... ? Ci
But wlion once in the Harness, uowever u m,
Buckie down to your work niglit and day,
Secure in the triumph of hand and of wit
If you only keep pegging away.
There are times in all tasks when the fiend Discontent
Advises a pause or a change;
And on fields far away and irrelevant bent,
The purpose is tempted to range;
Never heed, but in sound recreation restore
Such traits as are slow to obey,
And then, more persistent and staunch than before
Keep pegging and pegging away.
Leave fitful endeavor for such as would cast
Their spendthrift existence in vain,
For the secret of wealth in the present and past.
And of fame and of honor, is plain.
It lies not in change, nor in sentiment nice,
Nor in wayward exploit and display,
But just in the shoemaker's homely advice
To keep pegging and pegging away.
JU (Nginai
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE LADY OF LINTON.
BY WALTER MORGAN.
CHAPTER XV.
As Sir Roland, tremblingly, slowly reached
out his hand, and with a timid gesture laid it
in Miriam's wasted hand, a convulsive shudder
passed over her whole frame. She
turned away her head, and in a faint voice
said ?
"You do not hate me utterly, then ?"
"Hate you! 0, Miriam ! my wife. If you
only knew!"
"I thought you would want to kill me. I
know I deserve death at your hand. It would
be only a just retribution."
"Do not utter such terrible words, Miriam.
I love you with my whole heart and soul?
have loved you all along."
She turned an incredulous look upon him.
"Lovemel You!"
"Aye, love. I gave my whole heart to you
'once, and have never taken it back."
"I cannot understand it," she said, dreamily.
"I fancied you would never utter my
name without a curse. Don't you know that
I am a demon?a tool in the hands of Satan
himself?"
' You were his tool once, Miriam. You
did not act of your own free will. But forget
' that now. Let us never recur to that time
again."
"And you forgive me?actually? You are !
willing to forget ?"
"I am willing to forgive and forget every- j
thing, on one condition."
"And what is that?"
"That you will in future give me your? !
friendship," he replied, in a voice of deepest!
emotion.
"My friendship?poor Roland! You have
asked for a worthless gift."
"Your friendship, Miriam, and the privi
lege of being near you sometimes. I ask
nothing more."
"Such generosity is not human. I deserve
that you should spurn me, trample me beneath
your feet. Do you know how far I
have wronged you ?"
"I said that we would thiuk of that no
more."
"Nay, I do not mean that one guilty act
alone. Did you know that just a little while
- -- r j u- ? ,?i,?
ago 1 eugagou UlJ'BCJi 10 mail * a lunw miu
loved me?and this, not knowing positively
whether you were alive or dead ?"
Roland flushed deeply, and looked away.
"I did hear this," he answered in a low tone.
"But you believed me to be dead, did you
not ?"
"I had done so, ail along; but old Priscilia
had giveu me a hint of the truth."
"Well, we will forget that also, Miriam.
Of course," he added sorrowfully, "I cannot
blame you for loving any one else, because
you never cared for me. I canuot wonder at f
that. I never hope to win auy warmer feeling
from you than the friendship I have sued j
for. But for your own sake, after all thatj
has happened, it will be best for you open-1
ly to accept my protection. Let the world i
make whatever comments it likes. We need '
not regard them. When you are quite well j
again, we will, if you like, go abroad, and i
make a new home for ourselves in some far !
country where no one will trouble themselves |
about us, or inquire iuto our past."
"And give up Linton Towers ? Nay, that
would be too hard a fate for you. Rather let!
me go away. Send me where you will, make
what arrangements you choose, and I will
abide by them. Let me retire into a convent i
and try to expiate my sins by a life of penance
and seclusion."
"And could I be happy here, do you think, (
under such circumstances? No, we will go together?that
is," he added with a sudden,
painful doubt, "unless my companionship
will he too great a tax upon your endurance
"Would I shun the companionship of an
angel from Heaven ?" asked Miriam, in a
scarcely audible tone. "I have siuned deep
ly?my soul has been steeped and dved iu
crime ; but, before God, if you are willing to
be with nie through my future life, that life
shall be an atonement for the past."
He kissed her hand, and his tears fell on it
like rain.
"So be it," he whispered. 'Where thou
goest, I will go.' It is a covenant between
us, Miriam. With God's help we will build
up a future that shall compensate us for these
wasted years, and if my devotion can make
you happy, you shall vet And happiness upon
Cttl LIJ*
And so the covenant was made ; and from
th^t hour a wondrous peace dawned in Miriam's
soul. She had compared her husband
to an angel of Heaven, and surely his ministrations
to her were angelic in their tenderness.
A new feeling for him began to awaken
within her. It was not love, hut a deep, unspoken
reverence, that seemed to shed a pure
elfulgent light about him, and lift him far
above her lowly level. Her pride was all
gone now. With repentance had come its
sister, humility, abasing her in her own eyes
to a depth far below anything she had ever
before conceived. It was not a prayerful hu
mility at first. She had so long been an alien
from Heaven, that she shrank, almost in terror,
from presenting herself as a suppliant at
the throne of grace. It would take time to
clear all the mists of error from her eyes, and
make her see things in their true light. Gently,
cautiously, as one would lead a little helpless
child along a difficult path, her husband
strove to guide her wandering and uncertain
steps back to the road in which she should
! travel; and she, her haughty spirit crushed
I and bowed, submitted to his guidance, though
still with a mind too darkened and confused
! to understand his teachings aright.
Whatever comment and wonderment had
arisen in consequence -of Sir Roland's sudden
appearance in the Hesh, after the many years
| during which the world had thought him
; numbered among the denizens of another
1 sphere, (and these were rife in the parish) no
I whisper of them reached the quiet chamber
j in which Lady Hepburn's convalescence
\ passed; and as soon as her strength was suffi
' ciently restored, her husband and herself,
i without open preparation or warning, quietly
1 left their home, disappearing forever front the
| spot where they were known.
[ Shortly after their departure, Mrs. Hope
i received this note, written by Miriam, after
' much reflectiun and perplexed thought, and
I submitted to her husband's approval before it
! was sent.
To Cyril Hope's Mother: "Feeling, as I do,
almost unworthy to address you, as one most
nearly concerned in the welfareofaperson whom
I have deeply injured, I cannot, nevertheless,
refrain from writing you these few lines, to crave
your forgiveness, and ask your intercession in
obtaining his, for having been the cause of so
much unhappiness. In my folly and madness, I
would have involved myself and him in total
ruin ; but that dreadful result has, at least, been
averted. My husband, in the nobility of his soul,
and with unequaled and unexampled generosity,
has accorded me his pardon for the wrong I did
him. If, during the remainder of my life, I can
atone, by penitence and humility, for my many
sins, such atonement shall be made. Think of
me, therefore, as one who has been very wicked,
but repents deeply; and pray for me, that such
repentance be not in vain. When this reaches
you, I shall have left this country forever. My
peace of mind can be only maintained" in some
spot far away from the scene of mv past wrongdoings,
where nothing shall remind me that I
am a fitting object for the scorn and detestation
of mankind. Miriam Hepburn."
It was long ere Mrs. Hope, with all her
Chistian charity, could briug herself to think
forgivingly of the woman who had darkened
Cyril's life. Her mother-heart, wrung by
his sorrow, could find no palliation for her
fault. But by degrees, as she saw the cloud
which had settled upon him begin gradually
to lighten ; as she noted some return of his
old interest in the duties of life, she tried to
overcome her reseutment, and to accord to
the offender the forgivness she had craved,
and which she knew was enjoined by that
good Book from which she gathered the
daily teachings that ruled her conduct, and
instructed her to do unto other even as
she would have ihem do unto her.
As to Cyril, his sufferings for a time were
great; but as his passionate love for Lady
Hepburn had sprung up suddenly and swiftly,
and the time in which he could indulge
it had been of no short duration, it was perhaps
more easily uprooted from his heart
thau had it been of Blower growth, and more
prolonged in its existence. Like a fierce
flame, it seemed for a time almost to consume
him, but all the more quickly, from its very
intensity, burned itself out, leaving only the
ashes of a dead hope behind. Other thoughts,
other aims, engrossed him. He was soon
called to a parish in another part of the country,
where he found much to interest and
absorb him, and his duties left him little
leisure for vain repining or regrets. Here
he had a pleasant, comfortable home with
his mother and Mary, his salary enabling
them to live in more ease than they had
known for many years. Leila married her
vnnnir hnrrister who took her to reside in the
city, where he pursued his profession with
succe^. Of Lou?gentle, loving Lou?only
a tender memory remained ; but though her
dream of making one of the household in her
beloved Cyril's own home was unfulfilled, the
shadow of her presence was not wanting
to hallow its walls. Her name was almost
as frequently on the lips of those who loved
her, as if she had still been among them ;
aud while in the softening twilight their tears j
would sometimes fall as they recalled her j
sweet looks and ways, they felt with one ac- !
cord that God had dealt wisely in taking her |
thus early and lovingly to His care, and never j
wished her her back agaiu on earth.
After some years, when Mary was married i
and gone away, and only Mrs. Hope remain- j
ed with her sou at the Parsonage, Cyril took
to himself a wife; a gentle young girl, the
only child of one of his parishoners, whose
religious training and lovely disposition eminently
fitted her for the position in which he |
placed her. Very different was the deep but!
tranquil love he bore her from the feverish
passion of his early youth. The one had excited
hira, made him restless, uufitted him !
for his daily duties, had been less of a pleas- i
ure than a pain ; the other filled his heart;
with a new, abundant joy, tranquillizing |
aud ennobling in its influence, and giving I
him new ardor and new strength for the per- j
formance of his work.
In a calm, secluded vale, over which the j
blue sky of Italy bends, Sir Jttoland and Mi-1
riam made their home. Far removed from
the world and its tumult of strangers to all !
around them, their life flowed on in an even j
unbroken current, and the repose was equally ;
grateful to them both. The master hand |
that had always controlled the most powerful i
emotions of Roland's soul, still kept in check
the one deep feeliug that absorbed him ; aud !
while ministering with unfailing vigilance j
and devotion to every desire of her he loved, :
while toiling with unceasing solicitude for her ;
welfare, he nev t by word or sign made any j
demonstration of the vain longing which con- j
sumed him, the longing, deep as his love, to
win one answering sigu of love from her in
return. What prayers ascended, in his silent
chamber, from his overcharged heart, night
and morn?what tears of bitter disappoint- j
ment sometimes bedewed his pillow?none
could know or guess. Grateful she was for his ,
tenderness and care. Meek and yielding
now, her words were always gentle, and her
manner kind. She was glad to have him \
near her, glad to know herself the object of
: so much affection, while deeply conscious of
j its being undeserved. But gratitude he did j
not want. One spontaneous word of love, j
one caress springing from the heart, would !
have been worth more to him than everything
else?and these she never gave.
Years rolled by, and a change came over
him. She did not notice it at first; but by
degrees it came to her observation that his
cheek was paler and his step more languid
than of old. When she questioned him, he 1
smiled?it wa3 nothing. The climate, the
heat, had affected him ; he was not really uij- j
1 well But when the onnl weather returned.
it brought no returning strength. She en-j
treated him then to consult a physician, and
j with some reluctance he did so. He was advised
to ch^ge the air?to make a trip over
! the mountains. Miriam urged compliance,
and they went. For a little, while she noticed
an improvement in him, but it was not
; of long duration. Traveling wearied him, i
and he proposed returning home. Rest, he
: said, was far better for him than anything
j else. So they went back and settled down
: again in their pretty, secluded villa. Miriam
: was now the one to minister, and he the one '
to be ministered to. With new zeal, she
assumed the office of a nurse, and was un- j
remitting in her vigilance. They seemed to '
have completely changed places. After a
; time he ceased to resist the encroaches of
disease; they came ou gradually, but none
the less surely aud steadily. Self indulgence,
which was no part of his nature, became a
J necessity to him. He was forced to be passive,
| to submit to what he had no longer the bodily
strength to withstand.
It was not many weeks after their return
! that the end came. He had been expecting
I it?had thought over it much in secret, but
had spoken no word to Miriam of such
thoughts. Only his eyes followed all her
movements with a wistful yearning; a tenderness,
if possible, deeper than before, spoke
in his tone when he addressed her. And still,
with all her care and watchfulness, there was
the one thing lacking?the one thing he wanted,
the one thing which above all would have
surrounded his last hours with perfect content
and joy.
It was evening. He had fallen into a quiet
sleep, and leaving his bedside, she had sought
an open window, for the night was warm.
Leaning on the sill, she looked out on the sky
with its myriad of stars; and her thoughts
were lifted to the world above and beyond
those radiant portals, where sin and suffering
were unknown.
"Miriam !" said a soft voice, at last. She
went quickly back to her post, and laid her
hand upon his forehead. It was cold and
damp, and by the subdued light of the night
? i 1 P . _
lamp, she saw a new iook upon nis xace.
"Miriam, I am dying. Take me in your
arms."
She cast her arms about him, and l^id her
cheek on the pillow against his own. Her
heart throbbed close to his, and he could feel
its tumultuous beating. Of her own accord
she kissed his lips. Once, twice; and a deep
convulsive sob surged up from her breast.
"Roland, my husband ! ?0 ! God. I cannot
lgt you go!"
"Miriam?" his voice was weak and faint,
but tremulous with the dawning of a new,
unutterable joy. "My darling, do you love
me at last?"
"I love you?I love you. Only stay with
me, and I will make amends for all!"
He smiled?a smile of perfect peace. It
had come at last?the one word be wanted ;
but he had no answer for her almost frantic
appeal. He needed no farther amends, though
she would have given her life for a little
longer space, a few more hours or days of
time in which to fill up what had so long
been lacking in the measure of her love.
?** #**
A quiet figure clad in black, visits daily a
little I talian burying grouud, where one grave,
witlfits marble tablet, is the constant object
of her care. Wreaths and crosses of fairest
flowers mark the spot where Sir Roland Hep;
burn lies; and his widow, now a widow indeed,
in heart as well as in name, will never
cease to renew them, or to water them with
her tears, until the time comes when she shall
be called to lie down at his side.
Not only in silent sorrow is her existence
spent. She has learned that iu deeds of
active benevolence, and fruitful sympathy
with the griefs of others, her own truest satisfaction
can be found ; and many an abode of
poverty, many a heart stricken by woe, wel*
? ? /? ,1
comes her coming, and blesses her ior me
comfort and consolatiou she bestows.
And here let us leave her, spreading the
cloak of charity over her past misdeeds. If
Bhe has sinned deeply, she has also deeply
repented ; and in the holiest of all Books we
read?andwhoshall gainsay his teachings??
That to them who have sinned most, the boon
of Divine forgiveness is extended in its highest
form, and to its amplest extent.
[the end ]
^lisrcUattfouo |U?tUug.
"THE GHOST OF INTIMIDATION."
congressman aiken exorcises it with
hard facts.
In the House of Representatives, the Apportionment
bill being under consideration,
Congressman Aiken spoke as follows:
After the admirable speeches made to-day
by the gentleman from Connecticut (Mr.
Hawley) and the gentleman from Massachusetts
(Mr. Robinson) I had hoped that this
discussion might have been continued upon
that plaue of statesmanship which they had
inaugurated, and that partisan prejudices
?wv morfl Ko Koo* /! in tKic Hohnfp I
my good friend from Indiana, (Mr. Calkins,)
whose attention I now invoke, has thought
proper to present some very pertinent questions,
which I propose directly to answer.
From the remarks of my friend and of
some of those who preceded him on that side
of the House, I am impressed that if there is
any pharisaical righteousness on earth it is to
be found in the Republican party whenever
questions pertaining to the South are discussed
by them. To-day they seem to be solicitous
whether or not a large proportion of
the people of the South are permitted to
vote, and the question is raised by them whether
it is not the duty of Congress to appoint a
committee of investigation upon this subject.
I ask my friend from Indiana (Mr. Cal
kins) and his colleagues why is this a latterday
thought with them ? Why did they not
desire to investigate this subject when Republican
rascality and extravagance were running
riot over the South ami none but Republican
votes were cast ? I hold in my hand,
sir, a Congressional Directory for 1874, of the
first session of the Forty third Congress, and
in turning to my own State I find that J. H.
Raiuev received in the first district 19,765
yotes as a Republican, "being all the votes
that were cast," as the Directory states. From
the same source I learn that A. J. Ransier
was elected as a Republican from another
district, receiving 20,061 votes against 6,549
votes cast for W. Gurney, Independent Republican,
not a single Democratic vote being
cast in the district. In the third district,
which I have the honor to represent, R. B.
Elliott, the caudidate for the Republican party,
received 21,627 votes, while only 1,094
votes were cast for W. H. McCaw, Democrat.
One year later I find L. C. Carpenter, Republican,
was elected to fill an unexpired
term, Elliott having resigued, and received
23,185 votes, as is recorded in the Directory, j
"there being no organized opposition."
Why is it that this party of great moral !
ideas, which then controlled the executive
and legislative branches of our Government,
did not think it incumbent upon them to have
Congressional investigation of this one-sided
condition of things'?
But let us come a little nearer to the preseut
time. In the Directory of 1876 I find i
that at the election of 1874, E. W. M. Mack- '
ey, a Republican, received 16,742 votes, and !
that C. W. Buttz, aI>o a Republican, received |
at the same time 14,204 votes ; no record to '
be found of a Democratic vote being cast in
the districts. Is it not strange, Mr. Speaker,
that this party, whose representatives on this
floor are so clamorous for fair and free elections,
did not consider it their duty to investigate
at that time these anomalous elections ?"
But, sir, this same Republican party, to day
so just, so fair, so moral, at that time so callous,
so insensible to the rights of Southern
voters, are now demanding that all election
districts shall be composed of contiguous
counties. Sir, allow me to instance but a
single case of Republican gerrymandering
during their revelry, extravagance and prodigality
in South Carolina. The third congressional
district was composed of the coun-1
ties of Abbeville, Anderson, Laurens, Newberry,
Oconee, Pickens and Richland, and no
portion of Richland county is within perhaps
fifteen miles of any point of either of the remaining
connties which constitute the district,
Lexington county, which has a Democratic
majority of about 1,000, intervening between
Richland and Newberry.
The gentleman (Mr. Calkins) must not mis'
understand me as saying that it was the nuiu
ber of troops that overawed South Carolina
during the six years to which I have alluded,
aud during which time I have shown there
were no Democratic votes cast. We refrained
from voting not because we were afraid of the
military force present, but because we protested
against that usurpation of power that au;
thorizes the presence of the military at the
ballot box. We believed then, as now, that
we were again in the Union, and had the right
to cast a free ballot, which could not be done
in the presence of the suzerainty of the bayonet.
Sir, we were subserviently obedient to
the Federal authorities. General Ruger was
j then in command in South Carolina, and had
j he hung up his old boots in the Capitol and
] written above them, "He who shall dare these
j boots displace, must meet the United States
i face to face," the order would have been imI
plicitly obeyed by every citizen of the State,
! and those old boots would have been as potent
in executing the commands of the government
as ten times the nlimber of soldiers as
were then in the State. It was not the powoi"
eir hut. the nresence of the bavonet that
drove Democratic voters from the polls during
those six long years of anarchy and oppression.
Sir, in 1873, I myself told a soldier
at the polls, "I will not vote under duress,
the Constitution entitles me to the privilege
of voting as a freeman, and there is no freedom
under that bayonet." For that reason,
and for that reason alone, sir, I refrained
from voting, and so did the Democrats of the
State.
But the Republican party claim that the
negroes of the South must, of necessity, vote
the Republican ticket. Possibly there was
an ostensible reason for this thought some
years ago ; but to-day there exists potential
causes for a reduction of the Republican negro
vote at every election. The intellectuality
of the race is improving, the more thrifty
of them are acquiring property and becoming
taxpayers, and find a Democratic incomparably
less burdensome to the taxpayers than a
Republican government; and thousands of
the more ignorant and timid have been rescued
by their humane employers from the op
pression of their Union leagues and other jesuitical
organizations of their race. [Laughter
and groans on the Republican side,] Gentlemen
may grunt and laugh sardonically at this
remark, but it is literally true. 1 have myself
accompanied colored men to the ballotbo^
who, with fear and trembling, asked and
received protection while they were voting
the Democratic ticket. You men of the .North
know nothing about the colored race in the
South. You are ignoraut of their maimers,
customs, traits of character, and their wants;
and the gentleman from Michigan, a thousand
miles away from any portion of the South,
and of all men the most ignorant of the people
of that section, presuming to read us a
lesson as to how we should deal with the colored
man !
If the threats and warning elicted by the
proceedings of this House from the Stalwart
portion of the Republican party are to be
credited, we may anticipate but a few more
free elections iu the South. As a Southern
farmer I have a greater interest in the welfare
of the colored people of the South than
all the gentlemen on that side of this Chamber,
because upon them and their labor I and
mine are, and always expect to be dependent
for our support. But, sir, identified from
birth with the people of the South and actuated
by the instincts of honesty and candor,
I declare it as my conviction that further
and continued congressional interference with
our elections will result in arraying race
against race to tbe detriment of the negro.
For whatever fate may befall the South, the
white people of that section, promted by the
first law of nature, will never again quietly
submit to negro domination. Eight long
years' subjection to an oppression unknown
to modern civilization is not to be forgotten
in a generation. In South Carolina, and I
believe a similar sentiment pervades the South,
we desire to see the negro elevated. But, sir,
a consummation of that desire will never be
attained by a second degradation of the white
man. You may draw your party lines upon
color; we will meet you thereand extinguish
them. Our destiny is to live in the South
with the negro, and we expect to work that
destiny peacefully, difficult as the problem
may seem. But if political legislation denies
us, or subverts our rights upon the pre
sumption that we have iu any wise curtailed
the rights of the colored man, just then and
there we will have reached that time in the
South anticipated by the honorable gentlemuu
from Michigan, when he expressed a fear
lest civil liberty would be destroyed uuless
election results could be changed iu that section.
But if the Americau people will only
repose confidence iu the Southern whites and
graut them the opportunities circumstances
present, I have little doubt but that this
problem will be solved satisfactory to both
races, and ultimately result in the elevation
of the negro, and the continued and, I pray
God, the everlasting political quiet between
the two sections on his account.
A few more words and I have done. Allusion
has been frequently made during this
debate to the small Republican vote throughout
the South iu the recent Pesideutial election,
and it has been reiterated that it could
not be accounted for upon just grounds. For
the first time since I have been a member of
Congress have I heard the South censured
and South Carolina escape more than the
lion's share of the abuse. But it seems the
recent vote in that State has given satisfac
^ .1 ? i - . i?
11011 10 Uiose WHO, lor UJC pui |;uac UJ liiio
debate, have bewildered themselves with
arithmetical calculation. Perhaps these gen
tleraen are not aware that during the last
campaign South Carolin had no Republican
State ticket in nomination, aud in only a few
instances a county ticket to represent the
Republican party in the campaign of 1880.
The ghost of intimidation doubtless presents
itself to the mind of every Republican within
the sound of my voice at the very announcement
of such a fact. But thatsuch a thought
is a mere phantom let me prove by printing as
a portion of my remarks a letter received this
morning from a resident lawyer of this city,
who is perhaps the brightest intellect that
South Carolina ever gave to the Republican
party. He has lately settled in this city, and
yesterday afternoon I addressed him a note
asking whether he was not a member of the
Republican State Convention of South Caroolina,
and if he did not publish a letter advising
against placing a Republican ticket
in the field. I have his reply, and will print
it:
Washington, D. C., February 5, 1881.
Dear Sir: I have your favor of yesterday, and,
in reply, would sav that I did publish such a letter
as you inquire about. The National Republican
party had been injured, and thatof the State
broken down and ruined by our running unfit
men for oflice. I knew we had not the material
for a State ticket in South Carolina, and I felt confident'that
if we forebore to nominate one, the
Democrats would be more likely to divide, run
"Independents" and thus sooner contribute the
material needed to build up a respectable and
strong Republican party ; one not in name merely,
but in principle and usefulness. Entertaining
these views, I declined most pressing solicitations
to allow my name used before the Convention.
I am. very truly yours, Wm. E. Eaui/e.
Hon. D. Wvatt Aiken, House of Representatives.
Now, this is a letter from an intelligent
South Carolinian, born and'reared upon her:
soil, who is a Republican from principle; and j
it contains two incontrovertible truths: First,
i that the Republican party in South Carolina
| had not material enough in it from which to
select a State ticket; and, secondly, that the
only hope of securing that material is to dissever
the Democratic party. Think you, does
any gentleman on this floor suppose that this
end will be obtained by arraying every two
or four years in deadly political strife that
party which so lacks material against that
party alone that possesses it at the South ?
. As well may you or they expect to break the
I "Solid South" by continually heaping abuses
upon those who compose it.
My friend from Indiana (Mr. Calkins) with
much fervor and great emphasis, asks, What
is a carpet-bagger ? in reply I say he is a po1
litical legalized burglar; that is just what a
carpet bagger is [laughter and applause on
the Democratic side ;] and I say to my friend
if he will come to South Carolina with a view
of identifying himself with the State, intending
to become a citizen, cluiming the protection
of that flag that floats over our Speak
er's chair, and demanding the right to be
recognized as a citizen, at the same time lending
a helping hand toward developing the resources
of that beautiful country, he will be
received with open arms from the mountains
to the seashore, and no questions will be asked
as to his politics. But, sir, no such mo
tives ever impelled the carpet-bagger to settle
in South Carolina or any other Southern
State. His was the visitation of a political
adventurer, who, through the ignorance of
the blacks, foisted himself upon the oppressed
whites, whom he proceeded at once to tax to
impoverishment, while he squandered in
luxurious Jiving every dollar poured into
the treasury by the tax gatherer. And yet
my friend thinks it cruel to call such creatures,
"aliens." Why* sir, it is an honor to
them to be recognized at all. I beg gentlemen
to recall the history of my State during
the carpet bag regime and ask what has become
of those tyrannical spendthrifts. Some
of them doubtless have been hung, as I believe
all of them should have been ; some of
them are to day, I know, in the jails of the
country, and others of them have had in
more ways than one retributive justice meted
out to them by an offended Provideuce. If
there is one remaining in my State, I am not
aware of it. And if they had all gone to
that other estate, Heaven knows I would not
have had a tear to shed at their demise.
COME SOUTH, YOUNG MEN!
On every side we see indications that the
manufacture of cotton is moving Southward.
The United States and Great Britain recognize
the fact that the fields where the cotton
is grown is the proper place for its manufacture.
At last capital is coraiug to the aid of
common sense aud the intelligence of the
North is admitting that the South presents
every advantage for the most economical factories.
Mr. McClure in his letter from Cincinnati,
summarizes the argument in the following
truthful language:
"The raanfacturers of the North must soon
go South with their cotton spindles and looms,
and those who go earliest will reap the richest
harvest. It is a violation of all the laws
of trade to transport the cotton a thousand
miles to an inhospitable climate, where water
power is unreliable a third of the year, and
where it necessarily costs more to sustain
labor than where the cotton is grown. Our
struggling cotton factories in Pennsylvania
would be earning from 10 to 30 per cent, on
the great water-powers of the Savannah or
the Alabama, where labor is cheap, where
the climate is the most genial to be found on
the continent, and where the cotton lint can
be furnished fresh from the gin. Instead of
r\n rtl'Ill rt r\P trans.
UJUUIHUg LlIO CiJJCUJO Ul jiuvniug, ut viuut.
portation and of re-separating the lint, at
much cost to the fibre, the cotton should, and
soon will be spun directly from the gin by
cheaper labor and turned into better fabrics
than can be furnished with all the skill of the
North.
"Those who say that capital is not safe in
the South either know not what they say or
mean to be untruthful. In every Southern
State there is supreme desire to have the factory
everywhere that the raw material is faruished,
and South Carolina exempts every
factory from taxation for ten years. In both
the C'arolinas, Georgia, Texas, Arkansas,
Mississippi and Tennessee, there are regular
immigration bureaus, not only inviting but
urging white settlers, and eveu Mississippi
has several of the largest and most successful
factories in the South. The cotton crop of
this year will be worth 8300,000,000, and
when simply spun into yarn it will be worth
nearly 8300,000,000 more. Where in all the
world is there so wide and tempting a field*
for legitimate enterprise and large profits?
I believe that half the whole cotton product
will be spun in the South before the next ten
vpbi'8 and t.hfi Rimceedini7 decade will furnish
J a
Southern factories for the entire crop. The
factory and the school will go hand in hand
in the South, and factory princes of the North
will next be bull dozing the black man in the
South to vote against the present oppressive
tariff upon cotton machinery."
Such is the prophecy of the intelligent editor
of the Philadelphia Times, after personal
inspection of the field. We find the editor
of the Chicago Times also admitting that the
South must become the field for manufacturing
cotton. That journal says:
"Economists tell us that withiu the next
twenty years, America will need 15,000,000
of new spindles, with accompanying machinery,
for transformation of the chief product
of Southern agriculture into other commodities
of commerce. Where should these new
spindles be set in operation? The answer of
economy is: Where the transformation of the
raw material can be effected, and the new
commodities placed on the best markets, at
the least C03t. Obviously then, the cotton
field, the cotton mill aud the railway centre
should be brought together. The cotton field
cannot be removed from the Southern latitude.
Nature has given to the Southern onethird
of America, East of the continental
backbone, virtually a rainopoly of this product
for the world; for, though the climate
aud soil of India and }>ortions of Mexico and
South America are adapted to the cultivation
of cotton, experiment has shown that a new
civilization must appear in those countries
" * -I'!-.!- L- ft. II..
oeiore 18 CUlllVHUOU can ue suucessiuuj' iutroduced.
For an indefinite period of the
future, the southern portion of America
will continue to be the chief cotton-producing
region. Why may it not also be the chief
cotton manufacturing region on this continent?
Why should not the fact that nature
has given that region a monopoly of the cotton-growing
iudustry cause to spring up there
the most extensive manufacturing industry
of this land ?"
The only answer that the Chicago Times
can find to its question is the old pretext that
the South is opposed to the introduction of
Northern men and capital. This stereotyped
objection, which the facts of the case have
exploded, still finds a lodgment in the braiu
of the machine editor, who is not yet awake
to the fact that the intelligence of the North
does not believe his cry and is losing patience
at the antedeluvian stupidity. The war and
its absurd reconstruction outcome, with all
the prejudices and slanders which grew out of
partisan debate, belong to the past generation.
The men who figured fifteen and twenty years
ago are replaced with a new generation who,
while not forgetful on either side of the principles
involved in the civil war, are disposed
to look back at the sad events of that period
as the Marquis of Lome, son-in-law of the
Queen of Great Britain, looks back to the
Battle of Baunockburn or to the Stuarts'
overthrow at Culloden. Neither side can live
in the past, and the South has been more
ready to accept this fact than the North. It
is is be expected that at Presidential elections
much partisan capital will be made for that
party with which the South will not co ope
rate, but the froth and fume of the hustings
are no indication of settled hostility. Since
the recent election there has'been at the
North nothing but kind words for the South.
Our progress in population and wealth is everywhere
admitted, and our peaceful and lawabiding
condition has at last challenged an
admission from the most violent of our pretended
enemies. It remains for the South to
encourage this kindly feeling and to invite
by the most liberal legislation the approach
of Northern men and capital. The strength
of our position being admitted, let us break
down the last barrier of prejudice.?Mobile
Register.
A SAD STORY FROM TEXAS.
Little Rock, Ark., February 10.?A private
telegram from Dallas, Texas, was received
last night, which solved a mystery
that has for three years baffled persistent
search and inquiry, and caused untold agony
and suffering worse than death. The facts
may be summed up briefly.
In 1877 the Robertsons were living in
Wise county, Texas. The family consisted of
a mother and two boys, the father having
died some years before. No family in the
neighborhood was raoro highly respected.
The widow owned a large plantation, and was
AAnoi/1/M?A/l mnaUliif niKiln till tkof
wuaiucicu ncaiouj f itiiiiw an tuau
the boys had a bright future before them.
Henry, the younger, didn't go much into society,
preferring home and seclusion. Frank,
the elder, went everywhere, and was known
far and wide. He was a wild, generous boy,
whom everybody liked, and it was thought
he had not au enemy in all the world. Possessing
rare manly beauty and a pleasing address,
he had little difficulty in wiuning the
affections of Miss Jennie Bane, daughter of a
neighboring planter, and, as there was no impediment
to the union, preparations were
made for it.
It was intended that the marriage should
eclipse auy similar event in Wise county.
Invitations were issued lavishly ; all the necessary
arrangements were conducted on a
grand scale ; the night which was to witness
the ceremony was beautiful; the season was
early Autumn ; the moon shed its light upon
the earth ; the flowers were yet in bloom, and
the night wind; as it crept through the branches
of the trees, carried their odor upon its
wings. The planter's house was brilliantly
lighted; the guests were arriving in numbers;
the strains of music were wailed on the
air ; Miss Jessie Bane had donned her bridal
dress, and waited, in her chamber, the arrival
of the one to whom she would link her destiny.
The hour set for the marriage came and
went, but no bridegroom appeared. Another
hour passed. Then a messenger was dispatched
to Robertson's mother, who sent a
reply to the effect that Frank had started for
the -Bane plantation long before sundown.
This fell upon the assembled company like a
bombshell. Messengers were dispatched in
every direction. The entire neighborhood
was scoured for miles around without finding
a trace. Daylight dawned, and still there '
was no sign of Frank Robertson. Meautime ,
the scene at Bane's was distressing in the extreme.
The betrothed bride, so strangely for- ,
saken, gave way to the anguish which op- (
pressed her. A horrible foreboding took .
possession of her. With the orange blossoms
amid her hair, and arrayed in her bridal
robe, she ran from room to room'crying, hysterically,
"Frank is dead; iny darling has
left me forever!" Soon unconsciousness came
to her relief, and in a deathlike swoon she
forgot her misery. The music ceased; the
guests departed rapidly, full of mingled pity
and wonder ; the lights were extinguished ;
the grand banquet was thrust aside unnoticed
and untasted, and that which had promised
to be a brilliant social event resulted in a
scene of gloom and mystery.
The search for the missing bridegroom was
continued all the next day, and for many
days thereafter, but without avail. There
was no clue, no trace of the young man.
From the moment be bade his sick mother
good-bye and rode gayly off in the direction
of Bane's plantation to meet his bride, he
had disappeared, to be seen no more in human
flesh. A year went by, and the incident
passed into local tradition. Frank Robertson
was still missing. His betrothed was a maniac.
She has never recovered from the
shock his singular disappearance occasioned.
To-day, in a private mad-house, she wears her
wretched existence out. She is always expecting
some one; always watching and waiting
for day to dawn and bring her lover. In
all this time Mrs. Robertson has not been
idle. Since ber son disappeared she has not
??/\n im Unnflo aP finrlinrr kim in. I i
giVCU up li.u uTv? U. uuu.n5 ? I
stituted a vigorous search. She advertised ; (
and all the Texas and a leading New York
paper contained notices, and offers of ?100 reward
for a clue or information of Frank, ]
dead or alive. There were replies, but the ]
clues furnished turned out false, and the }
broken-hearted mother almost died beneath ,
the weight of anxiety, disappointment, and ?
suspense. f
Two other years went by, making three in ?
all which intervened between the present and |
the time of the young man's unexplained de- <
parture. The mystery seemed as dark as ev- j
er. Mrs. Robertson doubled the reward, and <
offered a plantation to any one who would {
find her missing boy, Two farmers living ,
near by accepted the offer and dug up Frank ?
Robertson's remains from a ravine where s
they had buried him ! They claim he was a |
horse thief and was lynched by vigilants on |
his wedding uight. That he was hanged and e
then buried is unquestioned, but whether a (
horse thief is not so clear. The men claim f
they were bound by solemn oaths to keep the ,
actions of the vigilauts (of whomsthey were
members) secret, and hence their reluctance (
in revealing the fate of their victim. Mrs. (
Robertson had the skeleton of her son en- ]
closed in an elegant coffin and buried in the (
Denton cemetery. The funeral attracted ,
hundreds, and the comments were various. ?
She recently instituted suit against all the (
parties implicated in the hanging, showing a \
disposition to go to the bottom of the matter. ,
The suit revives all the interest in the affair, ,
recalling almost forgotten incidents, and, be- ?
fore it is ended, there i3 a probability that |
some new aod startling developments will add (
to its already sensational features.? Cor. Chi- |
cago Times.
Pottery in the United States.?A wri- j
ter in Harper's Monthly says there are 800 t
notteries iu the United States, the total pro- g
ducts of which supply 50 per cent, of the (
wares anuually consumed, the chief centres of j
the industry being Trenton, the capital of
New Jersey, and East Liverpool, in Ohio.
The former city offers peculiar attractions (
to the potter, both from its railways and ca- j
uals cannecting it with the great cities of the j
Union, and its nearness to the mines of the ?
raw material. West and Southwest lie the (
coal, kaolin, spar and quartz mines of Penn- ?
sylvania, Delaware and Maryland, and east- ]
ward the tire aad white clays of New Jersey. ,
The clays of Ohio, Missouri and Indiana, f
and an abuudance of fuel, have built up East
Liverpool, making it the ceramic centre of j
the West. For thirty years it has been enga- ,
ged in the manufacture of the ordinary Rock- |
ingham and yellow wares, furnishing the j
greater portion of the $2,000,000 worth an- ?
nually produced in this country. It was not I {
until 1873 that white ware of any description j
engaged the attention of the Liverpool pot- ,
ters; to-day white granites, serai-chinas and
"cream color" are manufactured in fourteen
thriving establishments, and one or two firms ;
are experimenting in china. !
BRAWLS IN CONGRESS.
Oq the 29th of January, 1835, an attempt
was made to assassinate General Jackson oa
the portico of the Capitol, at a funeral ceremony,
by Richard Lawrence, a painter by
trade, and resident of Washington. He exploded
two caps on the pistols in the attempt.
The pistols were afterwards found to be well
loaded, and Jackson's escape was considered
miraculous. The would-be assassin was
knocked down and taken into custody. Gen.
Jackson always believed that this act was
perpetrated at the instigation of some of the
friends of the Federal Bank.
Prior to this, in 1833, Gen. Jackson was
assaulted while sitting down reading a newspaper
oa the boat at Alexandria, but the
frier.ds of the assailant succeeded in getting
him out of the way in good time.
It was in these days that Henry A. Wise
made an ugly face at speaker Polk ou the
street and spat at him.
In February, 1838, Mr. Cilley of Maine
charged in his speech in the House that
T v??B
uaiuea t? uwuu it cuu, cuiiaja ui mo
York Courier and Enquirer, had received a
bribe of $52,000 from the Bank of the United
States. Graves of Kentucky took up Webb's
quarrel, and Henry A. Wise bore bis chal- ?
lenge to Cilley. General George W. Jones
was Cilley'a second. Bladensburg was the
place and the weapons were rifles. The rifles
rang out and both missed. The challenge
was withdrawn to give opportunity for
reconciliation. The attempt failed and the
principals again took position, Wise remarking
r,hat if the matter was not terminated by
this shot he would propose to shorten the distance.
The rifles rang again and Cilley fell
dead.
Henry A. Wise, the Ajax in these scenes,
struck Stanley, from North Carolina, a blow
at the race course. Stanley demanded the
usual satisfaction. The demand was withdrawn
for explanation. Wise explained that
"understanding Stanley come in collision
with him unintentionally near the race course,
he deemed it to be his duty, as a gentleman,
to say that the blow, inflicted byiiim on
Stanley through a sudden impulse produced
by erroneous impressioni;:, demanded his profound
regret." Stanley's friends told him he
was bound to accept the explanation, which
he did.
It was in April, 1850, when the compromise
measures were under discussion, that the
scene between Foote and Benton took place
- ^ *n
in tbe senate, jp oote was ma&iug a speeuu
and made allusion to Benton. Benton
rose hastily from bis seat, pushing his chair
violently from him, and without remark or
gesture moved up the aide toward Foote, who
was about twenty foet distant Benton had
no weapon in his hand or upon his person.
Foote, perceiving Benton's movement, advanced
to meet him drawing and cocking a
five chambered revolver. Members intervened,
and order was restored. Benton said
a pistol had been brought to assassinate him.
Foote replied he had only brought it for selfdefense.
Benton replied that was always
the pretext of an assassin.
Io 1854, Churchwell and Cullum bad their
"set-to" in the House. Churchwell pronounced
language used by Cullum infamously
false. Cullum, who sat about fifteen feet
from Churchwell, sprang from his seat with
coth fists upraised, and exclaiming, "G?d
1?n you, you d?n rascal," tried to "get at"
lim. Cullum said Churchwell drew a pis:ol
on him. The Speaker pounded; the
Sergeant at-Arms fumed and?held up his
naco! But calm succeeded as it always
loes?after a time.
It was the 22d of May, 1856, that Preston
5. Brooks, a member of the House from
South Carolina, came into the Senate Cham/^Atrri
o nrl Vton f Sonntnr
JCl HUU KUUbBtU uvnu uuu uv?> w?...
Sumner, from Massachusetts. Brooks afterwards
challenged Senator Henry Wilson,
who was opposed to the code. He also challenged
Burlingame, who accepted, and named
;he Canada side at Niagara Falls, and proceeded
there. Brooks declined to meet burlingame
at that point, alleging that the place
)f meeting had been expressly named because
it would be impossible for him to be present.
In the same year a scene occurred in the
House between Mr. Sherman of Ohio (now
Secretary Sherman), and Mr. Wright of Tenlessce.
Sherman tried to throw a handful of
wafers in Wright's face, when Wright made
in attempt to strike him. Confusion and excitement
prevaled for a moment, but was soon
illayed.
FIYE WEEKS IN A TRANCE.
Physicians in Newark, New Jersey, have
seen deeply interested lately in a curious case
)f hysteria in that city. For five weeks Miss
Anna Ward, the 16 year old step-daughter of
Alexander Johnson, of the Mutual Benefit
Life Insurance Company, lay in a trance.
Last Winter she was seriously ill for weeks
with typhoid fever. Wiien she recovered it
was deemed best not to allow her to return to
ichool until September. Then she found that
ihe bad fallen behind her class-mates in her
itudies. Feeling that she was strong, as she
lad spent the Summer at Long Branch and
Saratoga, she began to apply herself diligenty
to her studies to make up for lost time,
she overtasked her brain, her health failed
ifter a few weeks and she was compelled to
withdraw from school. Her sickness became
serious, and in the latter part of November
the fell into a trance. She lay quietly in her
ied with her eyes sometimes open and some;imes
shut, but recognizing no one, and never
ipeaking. No sound escaped her, and it was
evident she sulfered no pain. There was a
slight twitching of the eyelids, but little other
novement.
Dr. William O'Gorman, the family physician,
called Dr. A. N. Dougherty and Dr. E.
3. Seguin, of this city, to consult with him.
[t was quickly determined that the strange
lisease wasnot catalepsy, for the patient's
irras when raised fell back upon the bed instead
of remaining where placed. It was
concluded that she was a victim of hysteria,
n an atrtrravated forrp. resulting frem over
study. The severest electric shocks caused
lot even the twitching of a muscle. After
several days had passed Dr. O'Gorman, not
mowing how long the trance would last, deeded
to administer liquid food artificially, as
;he patient could not swallow.
About New Year's day she revived, and
low she is able to ride out, and seems to be
estored to health. While she was in trance
he physicians were satisfied that she was conscious,
and proved it two or three times.
Dnce Dr. Seguin said for a test, "She's a very
iretty girl."
Immediately she blushed.
She says she was conscious, but had only
me thought, and that a terrible one. She
eared constantly that the physicians would
ironounce her dead, and she would be iburied
ilive. She had no physical pain, but this
Iread was agonizing. In vain did she try to
ipeak. She could not even move her lips,
[t is supposed that the twitching of the eyes
was caused by her efforts to speak or gave a
jign of life.
A physician said yesterday that he had
mown of only one other case of hysteria that
was at all like this. Within the last month,
le was called to see a lady who became a vie;im
within a week after her marriage. The
ihock to her nervous system resulted in a
;rance state, and a partial suspension of all
sense of feeling, but after a few days she became
conscious.
Hop An old editor had a new shirt-collar
presented him,, and he is now waiting for
some one to give him a shirt.

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